


How To Break A Force Bond

by Snap_crackle_spock



Series: Bonds Broken [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Clone Wars (2003) - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Anyway this is my favorite dynamic in literally all of Star Wars eat my ass Reylo, Force Bonds, My brand is women being Sad abt the men in their lives being mad dissapointments, Telepathy, kind of??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-18 12:56:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21711112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snap_crackle_spock/pseuds/Snap_crackle_spock
Summary: A former Master and Padawan walk into a space cantina.The Master asks:How do you break a Force bond?Easy, the Padawan says, break all the trust that came before it.
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano
Series: Bonds Broken [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1565923
Comments: 13
Kudos: 121





	How To Break A Force Bond

**Author's Note:**

> Anyway, I rewatched my favorite Clone Wars episodes on Disney+ (the Mortis arc and the Ahsoka-being-convicted-of-murder arc) and what can I say, those baddies are better than any of the movies and the Mandalorian and Rebels combined. 
> 
> Can you tell I'm excited for Season 7 to come out in February?

A former Master and Padawan walk into a space cantina. 

The Master asks:

_ How do you break a Force bond? _

* * *

I. 

The first time she’d felt her and Anakin’s bond through the Force,  _ really _ felt it, mind you. Not just been somewhat aware of its existence, the way she was somewhat aware of  _ everything’s _ existence through the Force, was flying a ship. The mission was boring, as most of them usually were, especially when they were diplomatic missions as this one was, and there had been nothing particularly notable that far. She’d been Anakin’s padawan for nearly a year at that point. All they were doing was escorting some diplomat or senator or royalty to a different planet than the one they’d started on, and she and Anakin had begun playing dice games to pass the time. 

_ Beats meditating,  _ as either of them would say in a heartbeat. Well, he’d say. Believe it or not, his terrible influence wasn’t  _ as _ effective as some of the council would believe. Most of the time. 

The ship was on autopilot, their escortee asleep in the single bedroom on the ship, and Artoo was dutifully charging in the corner. A perfect recipe for disaster. 

Just as she’d been about to clean him out of his credits –again– a disturbance was felt by both of them, causing them both to quickly abandon their game and jump into the pilot seats. They’d done this dance before, with both of them highly capable pilots with a good amount of history and experience on their side. It wasn’t particularly difficult. 

The disturbance was nothing more than a rogue bounty hunter, clearly trying to make easy money and work their way to notoriety by starting small. Their ship wasn’t even especially good, lagging easily behind and displaying a limited arsenal. 

In most cases, they would simply brush it off; jump to light speed just to shake the tail and call it quits. It’s what Ahsoka was gearing up to do, prepping for the jump on her side of the controls when-

_ A wave of boredom, mixed with the unashamed desire for  _ **_something_ ** _ to happen. A dull idea of just messing with the bounty hunter a little bit. Just enough to have some fun while not being late for the rendezvous. Maybe even getting the chance to show off. A sudden, all-consuming image of the two of them laughing like they would before the war really became a life or death situation.  _

She sat there for another few minutes, rolling the feeling over and over in her head. She’d always been Force-sensitive, dully aware of the vague feelings of those around her, but this was different. She’d never felt so sure that this was someone else’s thoughts come to burrow in her head, nor had she ever felt so secure in that. 

What’s more, she knew for a fact that Jedi built walls and shields in their minds to keep others from snooping around. Particularly skilled Force wielders could even set traps in their shields to stop intruders in their tracks, and even more skilled wielders could pick apart these traps in heartbeats. 

She’d been trained by Master Yoda to build these walls for herself, to keep her thoughts guarded, and there was no doubt in her mind that Anakin had been taught the same. 

And yet…

She glanced towards him, only to see him already looking back at her, clearly having the same train of thought she’d just had. 

Experimentally, she envisioned their bond, saw it like some kind of line connecting them, and tried to send her own feeling down it. Feelings of agreement, excitement for a dumb and unnecessary chase. Happiness for feeling one step closer to Knighthood from the Order. 

He simply grinned back at her, message received loud and clear, and pressed the thrusters down, engaging in a pointless, fun, time-consuming game of cat-and-mouse. 

* * *

II. 

For years her and Anakin’s bond through the Force only developed, making them a –for lack of a better term– force to be reckoned with on the battlefields. But it extended beyond just a good partnership in combat. She’d seen it in Obi-Wan and Anakin’s friendship, and she was beginning to see it in her and Anakin’s. Because that’s what it was, now. Not a Master and Padawan, not a mentor and apprentice. Friends. It wasn’t just that they could kick ass and take names on the field, but they –occasionally accompanied by a stray Obi-Wan or sometimes even Padme would spar for fun instead of training, fix up old ships together, or even just roam Coruscant. Once, he’d even promised to show her how to pod-race. 

And this had only ever strengthened their bond. With every happy memory, every victory against the Sith, Ahsoka saw the line she’d drawn in her head that connects her and Anakin strengthen exponentially. It was getting to the point that they could keep track of each other from longer distances, share clearer and sharper images or feelings to one another, and, one the rarest of occasions, communicate in full sentences. 

And then Mortis. 

Mortis, where even Obi-Wan had admitted that there was something strange about the way that the Force operated there. 

Mortis, where she’d been captured and infected with a darkness she could still feel writhing within her sometimes. 

Mortis, where she had  _ died. _

Mortis, where she’d been brought back to life through a final effort of the Daughter, the embodiment of the Light Side, which opened her eyes to layers of the Force she’d never imagined before. 

Mortis, where Anakin had turned completely to the Dark Side, if just for a second.

Mortis, which had an aftermath that they hadn’t really ever fully bounced back from.

An aftermath that left Ahsoka more keen to the balance of Light and Dark within each person. A balance which she had to watch slowly tip towards the Dark within Anakin.

Since Mortis, their bond hadn’t been the same. They could still send everything they used to be able to, but it didn’t land right anymore. Now, it felt like every time she sent something to him, there was this small, ever-growing piece of him that refused to accept it. A small corner that had its own walls and shields, which protected it from their connection. 

And on her end, it wasn’t much different. 

Every time he would reach out to her through the bond, she would still receive his message, but that little bit of her that the Daughter had left behind, that pure-white light spark within her would reject it. It would refuse something so touched by the Dark, even just a bit. 

This fracture wasn’t enough to break them, at the time she didn’t think anything ever really could, but just knowing it was there was unsettling enough. It left her second-guessing every message sent, and it’s true what they say. In war, second-guessing was as good as a death sentence. 

* * *

III. 

Ahsoka had always been fascinated by cracked windows. 

There was a sort of honor, she thought, in having a window shattered because that meant that it had been done without a lightsaber or a blaster, which would just leave a small hole. No, a cracked surface meant that brute strength and a low-tech weapon had been involved. In a way, it reminded her of home.

More then just how something became cracked, though, there was a fascination she felt for cracked things. Something was beautiful in the way that they were so clearly broken and separated, divided into dangerous little factions of their own, but held together with these powerful white lines that would only take a gentle nudge to break. She could see their whole galaxy in a cracked screen. 

That’s how Ahsoka had viewed her and Anakin’s bond after Mortis. It was cracked and fractured, unperfect to anyone who looked passingly at it, but it was still there. It still held together through sheer willpower alone. It didn’t have to be whole so long as it hadn’t fallen apart. 

The way they used the bond had become simply a second form of communication, unbothered with the respect paid to it by other members of the Order, but also unused for things any bigger than themselves. Where one team would use it as a way to plot attack routes, share information relevant to their assignment, or reveal secrets, Anakin and Ahsoka had fallen into the routine of using it for sharing annoyances during briefings, suggesting dumb ideas for how to make missions more interesting, or to simply say  _ hey, I’m still here.  _

In short, they’d begun using a sacred Jedi technique for everything the Jedi didn’t want it used for. Which was great for them, for when they did that, but not great for when they needed it for the other things, too. Not great for when one of them gets accused of several accounts of murder and has to go on the run and the other one is trying to track them down. 

It’s great for saying short messages like  _ I didn’t do it. You have to believe me. Anakin, none of them are believing me you have to believe me.  _ Because those rely on emotion, the thing that the Order so desperately hates, but it’s not good for much else. 

It’s not good for when one of them stands trial in front of the Council and can feel the hope from the other one, sure, but also the questioning. The doubt. The anger. The feelings that maybe this bond was never as strong as either of them had thought. 

It’s not great for convincing one of them to stay in an organization that wouldn’t believe their own. That turned their back on their own. 

It’s not great for telling the other that they’re the only thing that makes the whole place worthwhile, and if they wanted to come, too, because they know they the same way about the Jedi, that they’re not what they were once intended to be, then that’s great and even better, but if they stay then that’s it.

A bond like that isn’t meant for goodbyes. 

* * *

_ How do you break a Force bond? _

_ Easy, _ the Padawan says,  _ break all the trust that came before it. _

* * *

_ Okay _ , the Master says,  _ here’s a harder one: _

_ How do you put the pieces back together again? _

* * *

IV. 

For the first few months of her self-imposed exile, Anakin would try constantly. And it never worked. It never felt like more than a pesky insect flying next to her ear. She’d built up her walls, higher than ever before, and that keeps anything from ever really landing. 

She’d be working on her own missions, and she’d suddenly receive feelings. Overwhelming joy (something to do with Padme and children), a constant and building frustration (all to do with the Order), dry wit (Obi-Wan is trying to push a new padawan on him). And each time she’d receive these, they’d bounce off her mental walls like glue on rubber. 

It didn’t feel like she was feeling these things anymore, the way it once had. Back when their bond was the strongest, every high and low that he felt, she felt. Every victory, even if she wasn’t by his side, she experienced for herself. Now, it was like someone was telling them to her through a comm. It was like she didn’t even know the person that had felt those things in the first place. 

Beyond receiving communications through the bond, she could also feel him searching for a reply. Every once in a while, she’d feel a prodding at her walls, like an insistent child looking for something.  _ Tell me something, Snips. Tell me you’re okay. Tell me where you are. Tell me when you’re coming back home. Please.  _

Every time she felt it, she strengthened her walls. 

Eventually, he stopped trying. He got the message that he couldn’t find her, and she didn’t want to be found. 

The only time she’d ever tried to reach out through the bond was after she’d gotten the news of Order 66. 

By the time the underbellies of Coruscant heard about it, it was far too late. Everything had happened so fast, unless you were already in the know, you didn’t know. 

Still, she thought she’d try. 

She sends all she has. 

Anger, for not believing her. For not fighting harder to protect her. 

Sadness, for him not following her. That he didn’t learn the first time and stayed with the Jedi until they turned on him, too. 

Understanding, for not wanting to leave the only home you’d ever had after your first one was taken. For still trying to do the right thing from inside the Order.

Melancholy, for not realizing that goodbye didn’t have to be forever. That now she’ll never get the chance to change that. 

Thanks, for being the one that helped make her the person she became. For being there. 

Love, for everything. 

Emptiness, for when she didn’t hear back. 

  
  


* * *

V. 

It takes years for her to rejoin the fight. After Order 66, she became a vigilante, doing the work the Jedi wanted to without the beauracracy, the holier-than-thou-ness of it all. Without having to live by the Jedi code, she realizes things about the galaxy and herself that she would have never seen coming. 

Every time she does something good, she thanks the Daughter again. The powers she’s come to wield wouldn’t be within her at all if not for the goddess. But she thanks Anakin, too. She thanks the bond that gave her a glimpse into the Darkness that festered inside of him ever so slightly, because she’s come to realize that that’s not a terrible thing either. 

She’s come to realize that having that Darkness is what made him the one who was really Balanced. 

She thanks the Light, she thanks the Dark, she understands that both are within. 

She also will send something down her severed bond every once in a while. No matter how much it snapped, she still feels it pulled taut, not meagerly flowing in the winds of the Force. It gives her hope, which she knows is a fool’s currency. 

But, hey, beats meditating.

_ Stop me if you’ve heard this one before: _

_ A former Master and Padawan walk into a space cantina- _

_ I wish you could see it. The Jedi are coming back but without all of that stupid Order nonsense. It’s what you would have wanted, I think. _

_ It’s getting rough out there. Some bantha in a big scary mask and cape calling himself Darth  _ **_whatever_ ** _ is kind of kicking our asses out there.  _

_ Hey, Skyguy. It’s not your fault. I wish I could have told you that before I left. You’re the only reason I thought about staying. I only jumped because I thought I had to.  _

_ I saw 3-PO again! Wish I hadn’t.  _

She goes on sending her own version of an S.O.S. down the bond, treating it more like a therapeutic journal than a sacred form of friendship and communication. And it helps, more or less. It’s something to do, at least. 

It’s not until she’s at some imperial parade, where the regime is desperately trying to show off just how powerful they are by forcing all of the citizens of the planet they just captured to watch their stormtroopers march in a line for two hours. 

_ Bet you’d have something dumb to say that would make me laugh right about now, Skyguy. Or at least you’d have the decency to jump into fighting right now.  _

And for the first time in a very,  _ very _ long time, she feels a connection happen. She feels one of their messages get all the way from point A to point B. And her heart stops. 

All of a sudden, she’s up from where she was camped out on the roof of a small building and in the masses of people being forced to watch the galaxy’s worst performance art. 

She’s looking at every face in the crowd, trying to see where he is, because that tug, that tiny little tug on the bond is enough to say that maybe she’s not as smart as she thought. Maybe he  _ was _ out there this whole time. Maybe the clones missed him or he got away or something,  _ something _ that will let her say all the things she thought she’d been shouting into the void face to face. 

And she feels it. The little nudge against her mental shields, asking permission to open up their stupid line of communication that they used for  _ jokes _ for Maker’s sake. And, not giving a care in the world at the Empire’s forces that are right next to her, she throws down her walls. 

It’s a stupid move, it’s a move Obi-Wan would have scolded her for the entire shuttle home for, if he were there, but she does it anyway because  _ anything _ is worth this. She’d give up the lightsabers she had to make from scratch. The living she’s carved for herself. The safety of the rebels. It was all second tier. 

And all of a sudden she feels an intrusion. A disturbance. She’s overwhelmed by the same presence she used to be so accustomed to, only now it’s different. It’s darker. It’s rotten. It feels like it’s attacking her. 

And, in her panic, her eyes make contact with the figure in all black. The one with the helmet and cape and stupid breathing machine. And she can feel him, through their connection, come to the same, horrific conclusion that she does. 

* * *

_ How do you put the pieces back together again? _

_ It was a trick the whole time. It never really broke.  _


End file.
